Cold Christmas away from home

Cold Christmas away from home

By Lorie Ann Cascaro on December 24 2013 4:57 pm

VIENTIANE, Laos (MindaNews/24 Dec.) — In a small country where majority are Buddhists, Christmas is definitely not elusive.

Back in my home the Philippines, Davao City is already teeming with Christmas decorations. The façade of the city hall, for example, shimmers with colorful lights at night. Almost all buildings and houses are embellished with plastic pine trees and lanterns as early as September.

But in Vientiane, Christmas decorations are barely seen.

Since the beginning of this month, a few restaurants and apartments which are occupied by expats have modest Christmas trees with blinking lights in the evening. Seen along Dongpalane Road are shops selling packages of “Christmas” food ingredients and bottled wines, wrapped in shiny water cellophanes with golden or red ribbons and greeting cards. Garment shops display mannequins in red Santa-inspired costumes.

Amid a bright sunny sky, the temperature sometimes goes down to 12 degrees here. A much colder breeze than the yuletide seasons in the Philippines! Sweaters, scarves, gloves and socks are far more saleable this month at Talat Sao Mall and Quadin Market. Foreign tourists and expats wear their winter clothes. Some begin fixing their hot showers, while others decide they need heaters, which apparently are not available in most accommodation rooms here.

“The cold temperature right now is making me feel at home,” says Ms Suzie Fairley, a volunteer for Voluntary Service Overseas (VSO) from the United Kingdom of Great Britain. It will be her first Christmas away from home. She misses her family and friends, “all the Christmas parties”, and the food and drinks, especially mulled wine and minced pies.

“Last Christmas season here was not as cold as now. I’m still wondering,” says Mr Giovanni Solano Villafuerte, a Filipino VSO volunteer and adviser of a non-profit association.

He will not be home again for the holidays this year. He confesses that he is still trying to choose which one to buy: a trench coat or a pair of boots.

“There’s no big celebration here like how Filipinos do it,” he says, adding he misses Noche Buena (midnight meal), with a special mention of fruit salad garnished with keso de bola (cheese) and pancit (Chinese yellow noodles).

“Unlike here, I can feel the spirit of Christmas in my country. Even if you say it’s already commercialized, but it’s still there. Something there that pinches my heart, which I couldn’t find here,” he says.

Somehow, others had done gimmicks to feel the season. For one, a group of young falangs (Lao term for foreigners) in Santa Claus costumes or red clothes accentuated with small bulbs were hopping from one bar to another. They “painted the town red” that night!

Since last month, a few Filipinos who belong to the Sacred Heart Parish choir have been caroling at hotels and other establishments. The Philippine Embassy held last December 11 a little party for kids, dubbed “Mano Po Ninong, Mano Po Ninang”, which is a tradition of gift giving for the children from their godparents.

Despite donating more funds to the survivors of typhoon Haiyan (known as Yolanda in the Philippines), the embassy still found a way to give joy and hope for the kids.

Last Thursday, the British Embassy hosted a public film showing of Wallace and Gromit. Kids squat inside a tennis court where a pedal-driven projector flashed on a big white cloth. A Lao guy dressed like Santa Claus, minus the big belly, was giving lollipops to everyone, young and old.

Mr Andrea Caletti from Italy has been hosting a party for three years now in his restaurant, Soul Kitchen, in Vientiane. His friends, both expats and Lao, usually share a lot of pizza, pasta and overflowing red wine on the Christmas Eve. He says he’s never been back to Italy since he came here.

In Laos, December 24 and 25 are not official holidays. But Mr Souksakhone Vaenkeo of Vientiane Times says they seem to be treated as holidays by the younger generation. “Pubs and night clubs are always packed with teenagers at night,” he said.

Anyone can take vacation leave if they want. Even Lao journalist, Mr Phonsavanh Vongsay, who is a Christian, will take time off work to spend Christmas Day with his family in Champassak province. He says sharing time with his loved ones in a nutritious dinner and singing – as they are a talented bunch of individuals – makes him feel the essence of Christmas.

But both Australian editors of Vientiane Times, Mr James McDouglas and Mr Dan Riley will spend Christmas in the newsroom, working. “I’ll probably cover my desk with fake reindeer and bottles of Beerlao,” jests James.

Also from Australia is Mr Thomas Gadsen, who works with Lao Ministry of Education and Sports. He will be working in Luang Prabang province on Christmas day to collect education system data. It will be his first Christmas in Laos and first time working on a day that is a holiday in Australia. He adds that he has recently converted to Buddhism “as part of a process of experiencing different religions”.

Ms Fairley will also be working on December 25. “I will work all day but a friend has invited me for a quiet Christmas dinner in the evening at her house,” she tells MindaNews.

For Mr Villafuerte, a bunch of case study reports deserve his attention during the holidays.

Aside from the cold breeze, the yuletide season here is different from what it’s been in Davao City. Somehow, there is no sense of commercialism here. No midnight sales. No panic buying. No countless Christmas parties and exchanging of gifts.

For Christian expats, attending a morning mass and having dinner with good friends are enough to celebrate Christmas. Perhaps, an online chat with my family and short greetings from friends who remember me in the middle of parties can bring the “spirit of Christmas” here from home.

From the cold, foggy karst hills in Laos, Merry Christmas to everyone!

Lorie Ann Cascaro of MindaNews is one of the fellows of the FK Norway (Fredskorpset) exchange program in partnership with the Vietnam Forum of Environmental Journalists. She’s currently in Laos and hosted by the Vientiane Times.

Read more http://www.mindanews.com/travel-lifestyle/2013/12/24/cold-christmas-away-from-home/

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Another Day: A story about living in Vientiane’s wasteland

Another Day: A story about living in Vientiane’s wasteland

By Lorie Ann Cascaro on November 22 2013 7:39 pm

VIENTIANE, Laos (MindaNews / 22 Nov) – Welcome to “Disneyland”! It is a mosaic of blue, black and white polyester unevenly blended with brown soil surrounded by green shrubs and bushes. It was a gloomy Monday morning and the air is redolent of putrid residues or whatever people in Vientiane would call “waste”.

In a vast land of piled up rubbish that form like small hills, a tiny village hides behind the bushes at the side of a paved road inside the Km 32 landfill in Vientiane Capital. It is as colorful as a playhouse as shanties are thatched with used tarpaulin, posters and plastic curtains that used to be big grocery bags.

A man in his 40s, clad in a camouflage coat and faded black pants, is burning scrap electric wires near his hut. The smoke has blended with the gray sky. His hands are black with soot as he removes the plastic coverings to reveal the metal wires. “I earn 1,000 kip for every kilo of these metals,” says Mr Lumsy Sipanya as his eyes, shaded by a dirty whitish cap, are fixed to the flame.

In front of every house in the village has a black portion on the ground that is a mixture of ashes and burnt soil as a remnant of burning. Their income is quite sustainable for a bachelor like Mr Joy, 30, who has been living inside the wasteland for a year now. They can earn 100,000 kip a day, or at least 2 million kip in a month, for selling used electric wires.

“I don’t want to go back to the city anymore. No job can suit me. Here, I can earn enough for my own needs,” says Joy while fixing his motorbike. He is wearing fake gold bracelet and earrings.

Most of the houses are empty. Smoking cookstoves and soot-coated pots are left on the ground. Some packs of salt and other seasonings, used plates and plastic cups seem to tell that the inhabitants had to hurry after breakfast.

Over 200 individuals are working in a dump site not far from the village, according to Mr Bounkham Luangparn, 35, who is hired to manage a total of 30 households living inside the landfill. Most people who collect recyclable rubbish are outsiders. Some of them rummage plastic bottles, scrap metals and cellophane bags. At least 200 tons of garbage are dumped in the landfill everyday, a garbage collector told Vientiane Times while taking a break outside the small management office.

Children also play in the “Disneyland” in a purposeful manner as they help their parents, who taught them how to scavenge and help gather the collected rubbish that can be sold. It was almost noontime when two boys arrived on a motorbike towing a steel cart full of plastic cellophane. One of them, wearing a Spiderman-inspired sweater, detached the cart from the motorbike, and then the other boy drove away.

A seemingly three-year-old boy walked barefoot while eating a pack of uncooked instant noodles like some chips. When he finished it, he went to an old lady’s house to buy refreshment. He handed a thousand kip bill to the vendor while receiving a plastic bag of brown liquid and ice cubes. His mouth immediately caught the straw and indulged in delight.

Mr Bounkham, who has lived and worked in the landfill since its inception about six years ago, says their children have not had any serious diseases such as malaria, dengue nor diarrhea. The residents get free potable water. A doctor visits them regularly to conduct medical check-up, he says as he sits in a straw hammock tied to a manzanita tree beside his humble abode.

Separated from his wife, Mr Bounkham does not have any plan to live somewhere outside the landfill. He hopes that his kids will get a good education to have a chance to choose another kind of life. But, for the kids who work and live here, they do not go to school. “They’re not interested,” he says.

The sun never comes out but “bor pen yang” (it does not matter). These villagers continue to live each day, seeing hope for survival where most people would find as an utterly stinky and filthy place in Laos.

[Lorie Ann Cascaro of MindaNews is one of the fellows of the FK Norway (Fredskorpset) exchange program in partnership with the Vietnam Forum of Environmental Journalists. She’s currently in Laos and hosted by the Vientiane Times.]

Read more http://www.mindanews.com/feature/2013/11/22/another-day-a-story-about-living-in-vientianes-wasteland/

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Lao tourists ride “Korean wave”

Lao tourists ride “Korean wave”

The Republic of Korea has become a tourist destination for Lao people who want to see and experience being in a megacity as they indulge in Korean pop culture.

By Lorie Ann Cascaro

SEOUL, Republic of Korea (MindaNews/20 November) — While many Koreans visited landlocked Laos to take a break and find “healing” from buzzing Seoul, nearly 2,000 Lao tourists came here from January to October this year to see for real what they saw in Korean dramas.

More Lao people have become attracted to Korea because of Hallyu or the Korean wave, which refers to the growing popularity of Korean culture, Ms Maniksahone Thammavongxay, head of the Culture and Tourism Unit of the ASEAN-Korea Centre, said while sipping her coffee at Starbucks in Intaewon district. It is also known as “Western Town” where many international restaurants and shopping centers are located.

Amid the increasing number of Korean tourist arrivals in Laos, Korean culture has been promoted in Laos through Thai channels showing Korean drama series and popular bands, also called K-pop, she says, citing the dance fever “Gangnam style”.

In the past most Lao visiting Korea were government officials and students, who availed of the Korean Government Scholarship, said Consul Sungwon Hong of the Embassy of the Republic of Korea to Laos.

As of October 2013, the Korean embassy in Laos had issued 1,789 tourist visas for Lao nationals. The figure increased more than six times from that of 2008 when only 237 tourist visas were issued. This trend, Mr Hong said “is expected to maintain for a while in the future according to the economic development of Laos.” Based on the embassy’s total visa issuance, 2,934 Lao people had supposedly visited Korea this year.

He attributed the increasing number of mutual visitors between the Republic of Korea and Laos to direct flights launched last year by Korean Jinair and Lao Airlines. He also cited Korean travel agencies for their “vigorous marketing promotion that must have added fuel to the trend”.

However, Laos’ Tourism Marketing Department has put more emphasis on promoting Laos to Koreans than encouraging more Lao tourists to visit Korea, according to its Director General, Mr Saly Phimphinith. Since last month, there have been three direct flights to Seoul every week, he said, adding that he had noticed an increasing number of passengers. He has yet to collate the data.

Among four tour operators in Vientiane that offer packages to Korea, the Santhiphap Travel State Enterprise has a growing number of customers flying to Seoul since the direct flights have been regularized. The company’s Managing Director, Mr Amnong Phomphiboun, told Vientiane Times the number of Lao tourists who booked tour packages in Seoul rose from 21 customers in September to 34 in October. The travel agency began organizing group tours in Korea in August this year with a total of 28 tourists.

The tour packages usually cover five or six days and costs from 6,800,000 kip to 8,500,000 kip (US$856 to US$1,000), Mr Amnong said.

Lao tourists visited mostly the big cities Seoul and Suwon, traditionally known as “The City of Filial Piety” and is the only city that has remained totally walled in the country. Most of them also visited Nami Island or Namisun in Chuncheon as it has become famous through the Korean drama “Winter Sonata” in 2002. It is an imaginary country called Naminara Republic and visitors have to pay for their imaginary passports that serve as admission fees.

But, after seeing the megacity, Seoul, and indulging in consumerism at Korea’s shopping districts, most Lao people might not want to visit again. They would not mind taking the trip only once in their lifetime, Ms Manisakhone said and smirked.

“They are not used to big cities and it is enough for them to see for themselves,” she explained. According to some of her friends who also visited, their tour guide took them to a shopping area and subtly forced them to buy cosmetic products.

Others plan to visit again after some years, like Ms Noy from Vientiane, who went to Korea with her family this year. Her favorite places were the public parks and Nami Island. She said she might return to Seoul when her children have grown up. But for now, she plans to visit other countries like Singapore.

For some reason, Lao people are now riding the Korean wave because, Mr Amnong said, they love watching Korean dramas. As the number of Lao tourist arrivals in Seoul will continue to rise in the coming months, more and more Koreans will fly to Vientiane to avail of “healing tours” or to volunteer in schools, hospitals and other organizations in Laos.

(Lorie Ann Cascaro of MindaNews is a fellow of the FK Norway (Fredskorpset) exchange programme in partnership with the Vietnam Forum of Environmental Journalists. She’s currently in Laos and hosted by the Vientiane Times.)

Read more http://www.mindanews.com/travel-lifestyle/2013/11/20/lao-tourists-ride-korean-wave/

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A Filipina and a Lao woman in Seoul

A Filipina and a Lao woman in Seoul

By Mindanews on November 1 2013 3:39 pm

SEOUL, South Korea (MindaNews/1 November)—The Philippines and Laos have been famous to Korean tourists.  Last year, South Korea was the top source of tourists for the Philippines with over one million arrivals, while nearly 54,000 South Korean tourists visited Laos. Here, two foreign students, a Filipina and a Lao woman, have survived the challenges and realized the need to go home after their graduation to help their own countries.

The cold autumn wind gently breezes through a flock of pedestrians below tall, modern buildings in Seoul one late morning. Amid the hustle and bustle of a megacity with over 10 million people, a 34-year old Filipina, Michelle Palumbarit, arrives at our meeting place just on time.  Her breakfast was coffee in a paper cup, holding it like an accent of her fashionable black leggings under a grey skirt and long-sleeve blouse. She mixes up with Koreans like a citizen now after five years of adjusting to their daily lifestyle as she pursues higher education.

“I have learned the system here myself because no one ever taught me,” she says and explains the subway train map at the last page of her pocket calendar. All station names are written in Hangul, the Korean alphabet. The map can also be viewed through mobile applications available for smart phones. She claims, however, that she’s a bit “old school” as her handy is only “smart” enough to make phone calls and send text messages.

It is the same phone she was using when she first came to Seoul for a Korean government scholarship in a master’s degree on Korean Studies at Yonsei University, where she is also currently a scholar for a doctorate degree on Political Science major in Comparative Politics. She finished her bachelor’s degree in History at the University of the Philippines in Miag-ao, Iloilo. “Obviously, I am an Ilongga,” she says proudly. Ilongga refers to native women in Iloilo province, while men are called Ilonggo, which also refers to their dialect.

Palumbarit has been interested in Korea since then, as her first master’s degree was Asian Studies with Korean Studies as her area of specialization at the University of the Philippines in Diliman, Quezon City. Living in a country that is more developed is more of a boon than a bane. She points out Seoul’s efficient transport systems and high priority on safety and security. “If you are lost, just ask the traffic policemen. They are very helpful,” she advises, recalling her first few days in Seoul. She hopes that some good things here could be applied in her country someday.


She dreams of becoming an educator as her way of “giving back to the people who paid for my education at UP and actively and positively contribute to the country I have always loved.” At times when she was sad, frustrated and lonely, and wanted to give up, she says she thinks of the Filipino people.

“All I ever dream of is to be a good teacher and a person who can inspire others to be the best they can be through education. For now, I am working on that dream,” she says, waiting to get off at the train’s next stop.

Michelle Palumbarit (left)

Missing Laos

Unlike Palumbarit who is familiar with the subway system, Lao student Ms Lattanaphone Vannasouk, 24, barely uses public transport and has not explored South Korea except during a few school field trips since she came here five years ago. In an interview in the evening, this petite woman, also called “Tookta,” in her denim pants and checkered long-sleeves, says she prefers to set meetings in familiar surroundings so she won’t get lost. Her school, the Korea Development Institute (KDI) School of Public Policy and Management in Seoul, sits in a compound after a turn from Hoegi-ro Road. It is not so easy to find.

Tookta was only 18 years old when she arrived in Seoul alone in 2008 to avail of a Korean government scholarship program. She took a bachelor’s degree on business administration, major in trade and industrial policy. Dreaming big after her undergraduate course, she applied in the same school for a new scholarship to pursue a master’s degree on public policy, which she is hoping to complete next year.

Setting a goal helped Tookta cope with a new culture and system of education. “The system of education here is similar to that of Laos, but the students here are different. To compete with Korean students is very hard. I’m not going to compete with them but I have to force myself to study hard, just like them,” she says. Aside from seven other Lao students, Tookta developed friendship among foreign students from Vietnam, Thailand, Myanmar and Mongolia.

Although she admits that technology and quality of education, among other development facets, are better in South Korea, she still misses her homeland. “It’s really hard to eat the same kind of food all the time. Lao food is hard to cook here,” she says and laughs. When she misses tam-mak-houng (papaya salad), she makes her own version with green papaya but without padek (fermented fish sauce), making do with some fish sauces found in the market.

“Here, I see a lot of development. Compared to Laos, we are still left behind,” she says. Tookta wants to bring new ideas when she comes back to Laos. She hopes to work in a private company first while waiting for the chance to work in the government, particularly in the Ministry of Planning and Investment. But she admits that it is hard to assert new ideas in her country if she will just be alone.  “It’s hard to change the way they are doing. I will just be one person there. If I am alone, I think it’s really hard but if we have a team, I think we can.”

She points out that Laos has a lot of potential for investment, citing the 4,000 islands in Champassak province. “It’s my parents’ hometown and I personally like the province. Don Khone and Don Khet islands have many prospects for investment,” she says.

Studying hard and being patient are some of the lessons that she learned while in Seoul. “I always tell my cousins and relatives to study hard and if they have the chance to study abroad, [they must] grab the opportunity.” (Lorie Ann Cascaro of MindaNews is one of the fellows of the FK Norway (Fredskorpset) exchange program in partnership with the Vietnam Forum of Environmental Journalists. She’s currently in Laos and hosted by the Vientiane Times.)

Read more http://www.mindanews.com/feature/2013/11/01/a-filipina-and-a-lao-woman-in-seoul/

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On the Lao side, Naga fireballs remain…

On the Lao side, Naga fireballs remain…

By Lorie Ann Cascaro on October 24 2013 5:59 pm

People swarm into a small village in Vientiane to see the Naga fireballs themselves despite others’ belief that the phenomenon is but a legend

VIENTIANE, Laos (MindaNews / 24 Octet) – Somewhere around 7 p.m., visitors and the villagers of Pakngum in Vientiane see hundreds of golden lanterns rising slowly beyond a full moon from Thailand’s Nong Khai province. Between Laos and Thailand, where the Nam Ngum and Mekong rivers converge, an intermittent exchange of fireworks conveys the people’s excitement at seeing the Naga fireballs shoot up from the deep recesses of the river.

Locally known as “bangfai paya nak” and described as pinkish-red fireballs, they surge like rockets every Boun Ork Phansa at the end of Buddhist Lent, says Mr Khamphuan Bouthsingkham, 65, who was the village’s chief 13 years ago, speaking in an interview hours earlier. He says that according to their ancestors, the Naga festival has been a 400-year-old celebration above and “under” the Mekong. “While the human world holds a festival with boat races and fireworks, the Nagas underwater create fireballs to honour the Buddha,” he explains.

Buddhists believe the Nagas are servants of Buddha in the form of water snakes residing in the Mekong River. As Mr Khamphuan imagines, they resemble the structures of dragon-like snakes with golden and green bodies found in the four corners of a small tower inside the compound of the village’s Vat Pra That Yadee Sama Khee Tham Thin Soy. Built in 1570, the temple has a 500-year-old stupa sitting about 50 meters from the riverbank. He points out that the Naga visited the stupa 30 years ago as people discovered its tracks from the riverbank.


The Naga also took a human form, Mr Khamphuan continues. Sometime in 1978 or 1979, a novice monk crossed the Mekong to Thailand before the Naga fireballs appeared and bought two boxes of powder used to make explosives. The young monk has since disappeared, but people believe he was the Naga who used the powder to make fireballs.

The young Khamphuan saw fireballs rapidly emerging from the water and rising up past a big tree before they disappeared. He grew up in a traditional house which is a hundred footsteps away from the confluence of the two rivers. “They came out right from the centre,” he says, and points to an imaginary line in between the two flows. The water from the Nam Ngum is greyish green with a steady flow, while the one from the Mekong is brown and fast.

He has never seen the Naga, but a village fisherman did see it some years ago. Mr Khamphuan tells Vientiane Times that on the day of the festival, the man’s fishing net caught something heavy. Instead of pulling it up, the man was pulled into the river. Thought to be dead by his family and neighbours, the man emerged on the third day after his disappearance and told them about an underwater festival. He was sent back to tell the villagers to honour the Naga by refraining from fishing on Buddhist days, and practicing the precepts of Buddhism such as not telling lies.


The villagers’ strong belief in the Naga and Buddhist teachings might have influenced the emergence of the fireballs. Mr Khamphuan ’s 99-year-old father, Mr Thit Saun Bouthsingkham, says he saw hundreds of fireballs coming out of the river during his younger years. The only one left of his generation, this toothless old man narrates his earlier encounters with the fireballs. He says he could not touch them as they rose so quickly into the sky and there were hundreds of them coming out from the sides of his boat. But, as the environment changes and people’s belief fades, the fireballs seldom show up, he explains.

His granddaughter, Ms Lounee, 28, says she has seen fireballs every year for as long as she can remember. Her two children, a one-year-old and a five-year-old, also saw them last year, she adds. While decorating banana stems with flowers, candles and incense sticks that would be floated on the river later, she says “I expect to see them again tonight,” and smiles broadly.

But 13-year-old Jonas Onthavong from the distant village of Khosaath, who has been visiting Pakngum every year for the festival, has never seen any fireballs. He says he was too busy talking or playing with his friends and didn’t really care about them. Asked whether or not he believes they are real, he looks at the river and scratches his head with his left hand. “Ha-sip, ha-sip (50-50),” he says dismissively.

As the night darkens, everyone waits to see real Naga fireballs while drinking Beerlao and eating tam-mak-houng (papaya salad). Amid whistling firecrackers, a sailing boat loaded with some bubbly locals entertains the hovering crowd on the Lao side of the river. Hours pass as fireworks and flying lanterns continue to amuse the watchers’ eyes. Until, a red light, like a laser point, appears and rises over the silhouette of the dark part of Thailand’s shore. It is too dark and far to figure out if it emerges from the river. The people who see it gasp in awe as the light quickly disappears. A few minutes later, another one appears, coming from the same direction as the first. More people are now looking in the same direction, waiting for another red light to rise. The third one rises after a longer wait. And who knows, how many more red “fireballs” rise that night.

Last year, many fireballs appeared the day after the festival when there was less noise along the river, Mr Khamphuan says, adding that the more visitors there are, the fewer fireballs are seen.

But, the existence of the Naga fireballs remains controversial. Online articles try to provide scientific explanations on how the fireballs could be formed but until then they remain theories. For example, American writer Bryan Dunning said during his weekly podcast, Skeptoid, in 2009 that the “scientific” explanation of the Naga fireballs “is not very scientific at all”.

Dunning argued that there are “two fatal flaws” with the hypothesis that the decomposition of organic matter in the riverbed produces methane gas, which bubbles to the surface, have caused the fireballs. He said “methane can only burn in an oxygen environment within a specific range of concentrations” and “requires the presence of phosphine combined with phosphorous tetrahydride, whose needed proportions are unlikely to be found in nature.” But, he added that even if such conditions did exist in the Mekong, “the combination of oxygen, methane and phosphorus compounds burns bright bluish-green with a sudden pop, producing black smoke” and “under no conditions does it burn slowly, or red, or rise up in the air as a fireball”.

Some people have tried to solve the mystery or prove that the phenomenon is a mere fraud. In 2002, a Thai TV programme showed how soldiers were found on the Lao side firing tracer bullets to produce what those from the other side of the river saw as the fireballs.

Meanwhile, whether or not the red fireballs that people have seen in recent years are actually firecrackers discreetly set off to attract tourists does not matter for Mr Khamphuan . “Why should I care about those stories when I saw the fireballs myself?” Nevertheless, as long as there are still people like the Bouthsingkhams who hope to see them every Ork Phansa, the festival will continue to draw visitors to small villages like Pakngum and let them get to know its humble people.

[Lorie Ann Cascaro of MindaNews is one of the fellows of the FK Norway (Fredskorpset) exchange programme in partnership with the Vietnam Forum of Environmental Journalists. She’s currently in Laos and hosted by the Vientiane Times.]

Read more http://www.mindanews.com/feature/2013/10/24/feature-on-the-lao-side-naga-fireballs-remain/

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